


The Saline Communion

by DistortedDaytime



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Body Horror, Developing Relationship, Human Experimentation, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Medical Experimentation, Missing Scene, Muteness, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 07:16:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19268404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistortedDaytime/pseuds/DistortedDaytime
Summary: A simple job turns complicated when Sergio’s target turns out to be a clandestine medical facility. One messy getaway and two human guinea pigs later, he’s just trying to stay alive.





	The Saline Communion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Velocity_Owl87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velocity_Owl87/gifts).



> This fic was born out of reading [ Don't Fear, It's Just The Bullets, Bouncing Off My Helmet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10690221/chapters/23674047), wanting to know more about Sergio and Nando's relationship, and opting to fill in the blanks. Many thanks to Velocity_Owl87 for letting me play in their sandbox.
> 
> Warning for some not-too-graphic body horror. It's not a central part of the story, but it is there, so feel free to comment if you want more info before proceeding.

Nando takes to following him around the compound.

It’s unnerving to say the least; it would be unnerving even if Nando’s abilities didn’t allow him to lurk constantly in the back of Sergio’s mind. God _._ A fucking _telepath_ , a powerful one based on what Sergio’s gathered from Ricky and Mesut, just hanging out in his brain and staring at him with huge dark eyes.

The whole mute thing doesn’t help, if Sergio’s honest. It’s not like it’s Nando’s _fault;_ he didn’t ask for his voice to be stolen any more than he asked to be tortured in a laboratory, but. It’s creepy. The only time he’s alone is when Nando goes to spend time with Iker. They share a room, thank god, so Sergio gets some peace at night, but even then Nando’s still in his head.

 _Sorry,_ says a quiet voice in his mind.

Sergio winces. Fuck, it’s so weird communicating like this. “It’s fine.”

_It’s not._

A whisper of fabric, then Nando’s gone.

*

He doesn’t come back by lunch, or dinner. By the time the sun sets Sergio is starting to panic, but Iker looks frustratingly calm.

“You’d know if something was wrong,” is his only answer to Sergio’s query. “Besides, you only want to apologize to make yourself feel better.”

It’s just true enough to sting. Iker goes back to his book and gives Sergio the mental equivalent of a flick on the nose. He sputters, rubbing at his face.

“Don’t...don’t patronize me, okay? I know you guys have been through some serious shit-”

The book slams shut.

Iker goes pale and motionless, staring at the wall with his one good eye, holding himself so tightly Sergio thinks he might shatter. Iker’s somewhere else now, somewhere deep down in the recesses of memory just because Sergio had to open his fat mouth and trigger him into hell.

Sergio bites his lip. That...oh god, okay, that’s not good. “Iker, I-”

_Do us both a favor and shut the fuck up, Ramos. You have no idea what we’ve been through._

Sergio backs out slowly. He’s done enough damage for one day.

*

He wakes up in a strange bed. Sergio groans and tries to roll over, only to find he’s restrained. Escape attempts are pointless; he’s tried before only to be dragged back and punished.

Wait. He has?

Everything is too bright yet fuzzy around the edges. Harsh white light burns his eyes and a group of figures lean over him, distorted shadows talking in low voices. Sergio shivers.

He can’t hear all the words they’re saying, but his understanding goes beyond voice somehow. They wonder why he’s so stubborn, why he’d waste such a gift, doesn’t he know how special he is? One last chance to show what he can do, and all this goes away.

Sergio shakes his head. He doesn’t know what the fuck they’re talking about, but an overwhelming sense of guilt is starting to creep in. None of this would be happening if he’d been a better person and a better son. It’s his fault for being so weak, the only Omega in a Beta family. It’s no wonder they sent him away.

None of this makes sense. Sergio’s _not crazy,_ this isn’t his life and it can’t actually be happening. There’s not a dead sparrow in the rafters. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not-

Gloved hands touch his neck. Tearing paper, the sharp smell of antiseptic, a wet wipe slithering over his skin.

You could have been so much more, they tell him, and then pain, cutting, air flowing where air isn’t supposed to be.

*

Reality snaps back into Sergio like whiplash. It’s just after dusk and he’s in his room, seated on his bed, _his_ bed, clutching his phone and gasping for air. Instantly his hands fly to his neck but there’s no opening there, nothing severed or, or…

He rears up and runs to the bathroom just in time to throw up, heaving over the bowl long after his stomach is empty.

*

Nando reappears at breakfast the next morning. He follows Sergio around like normal, but he’s skittish and unfocused, with dark circles under his eyes smudged deep as shadows.

Sergio ignores it. After barely any sleep last night and Ricky’s confirmation that he’s basically confined to their safehouse, he’s crabby, bored, and not at all interested in Nando’s business. He’s also not totally heartless, and he breaks sooner than he would like.

“What’s wrong?”

Nando cocks his head. _Nothing._

“Yeah, try again.” Shit, that came out wrong. “I mean. You look beat, Nando, and you feel different. Up here.” Sergio taps the side of his head.

Nando doesn’t answer for a moment. His dark eyes travel Sergio’s face. Something shuffles in Sergio’s brain, searching, soft as fingers turning vellum pages. It’s an odd sensation.

_Huh. You actually care._

“Uh, yeah, of course- wait, did you think I didn’t?”

 _You don’t like me,_ says Nando matter-of-factly.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care. And it’s not that I don’t like you, it’s…” Sergio trails off, looking for the words. “There’s a difference between not liking someone and not knowing how to act around them, I guess. One day I’m alone, the next day I’ve got a pair of telepathic Omegas claiming me, putting their dreams into my head-”

Nando makes that weird hissing sound and shakes his head. _We’d never do that to you._

“Yeah, I figured it was probably an accident, but-”

Nando shakes his head again, harder this time. He hides his face in his hands. A distant call echoes in Sergio’s head, then Iker’s running into the room, going right to wrap Nando in a hug while glaring daggers at Sergio.

“Don’t just stand there, get some blankets, you moron,” Iker snaps, and Sergio runs to do as he’s told. He comes back with an armful, which Iker snatches and uses to wrap a ghostly pale Nando up tight. They’re deep in mental communication; Sergio’s learned to pick out some of their body language when they talk to each other.

He hovers, unsure what to do. Christ, he’s fucked this up _again,_ put more unnecessary stress on two innocent Omegas fresh out of tortures no human should face. This is why he belongs alone. He’s a shit Alpha.

“I’ll go,” he says softly, nodding at the door, but Nando makes his odd sound again and Iker actually growls at him.

“No. You stay.”

 _Stay,_ adds Nando as he lets Iker usher him to the nearest couch.

One corner of the blanket nest flaps open. Iker crawls in next to Nando, then gives Sergio a look. There’s nothing else to do but join them, take his place on Nando’s other side while staying close enough to reach Iker if he needs it. Their scents mingle gently and Sergio sighs, accepting the comfort for what it is. Spicy balsam, that’s Iker, but the soft grass is all Nando. This, at least, he can give them.

Nando turns and puts his head on Sergio’s shoulder. _I didn’t realize I was bleeding. I. I’m sorry, Sergio._

He blinks, alarmed. “Nando, you’re _bleeding!?_ What the hell, we need to get you to Ricky-”

He tries to stand up, but Iker pulls him back down. “Not physically bleeding. Mentally. Um, projecting stuff, I guess. Memories and feelings. They always called it bleeding. It happens when we can’t control our telepathy.”

There’s no need to ask who ‘they’ are. Sergio touches his neck, right where the phantom incision was made.

“How do you stop, uh, bleeding?”

“We don’t do it normally, only if we’re overtired or starving. The longer we go without food or sleep, the worse it gets,” says Iker. He smiles, a gallows expression. “Yes, there were tests.”

 _I don’t like to sleep,_ says Nando softly. _Bad things happen at night._

Sergio’s heart aches for them. “Nothing bad’s gonna happen to you at night while I’m here, Nando. You understand? Nothing. From now on you sleep with me, if you want. I’ll watch over you. Iker, too, but I don’t think three will fit in my bed. We’ll talk to Mesut, get another bed put in my room.”

Nando doesn’t answer, but he moves closer and the scent of grass thickens.

*

That night, Nando doesn’t hesitate to climb into Sergio’s bed. It’s fine, Sergio said he could, but he wasn’t expecting Nando to just, just, _take_ to it, definitely not to spoon up tight against his back as soon as Iker turns the light off.

Despite being so pale and a touch underfed from years eating god-knows-what, Nando’s arms are strong around Sergio’s chest. He’s solid and warm, comfortable in ways Sergio wasn’t prepared for. It’s nice. Huh.

_Are you going to sleep?_

“Eventually,” Sergio murmurs. “Once I know you guys are comfortable.”

Nando’s arms tighten around him.

*

After that their mood changes. Both Nando and Iker seem incrementally more settled, so Sergio takes the progress for what it is. He joins them for naps on the sitting room couch and lets Nando hold him close every night. An Alpha who likes being the little spoon, who knew?

Even the Beckham thing seems to be a positive. Sergio’s still not sure about their history and it’s not his place to ask, but Iker gives no sign of discomfort or wanting it to stop, so Sergio makes no move toward challenging the behavior. If Beckham’s presence makes Iker happy, fine.

Nando, though...his own happiness is something of a mystery. He still follows Sergio around, silently underfoot and determined to be within easy touching distance of him or Iker at all times. He likes hot cocoa and crossword puzzles, which are easy enough to get. Beyond that, though, Sergio’s unsure what to do. It’s not like their circumstances leave any room to get to know each other normally.

 _Can you hear me if I think at you?_ he asks one night.

He feels a burst of warm breath on the back of his neck, Nando laughing. _Yes. You’re very loud._

“Oh. Uh, sorry?”

_It’s okay. I don’t mind._

Sergio puts his hand over Nando’s where it rests on his hip. He’s tried hard not to ask too many questions; pushing will do more harm than good, but god, he wonders about Nando, about who he was before, what his laughter sounded like.

The thoughts make his chest ache. Sergio turns around in Nando’s hold to face him.

“I know it’s stupid to think of what could have been, but…” He stops, unsure. “I just. I wonder what would’ve happened if I met you in a different life, you know?”

Nando just watches in that solemn way of his. _If I was whole?_

“You’re whole now, as far as I’m concerned. No...I mean...what if we’d met at a bar, or through friends, or...I don’t know. Something normal, without all the chaos and hurt.”

_Something normal. I don’t know what that means._

No. No, he wouldn’t, after everything. Nando’s arms are still tight around him, his dark eyes still intent. Sergio takes a deep breath, lets his scent in.

“Right now I think...maybe it means just what your scent is telling me? Green grass, like the fresh-cut smell of turf on a football pitch just after it rains.”

 _Wait, you like football too? Who’s your team?_ Nando asks, and Sergio grins, excited at the new common ground.

“I love it. Have you ever been to a match where it rained beforehand?”

Nando shakes his head and readjusts his arms around Sergio’s waist. _No. Tell me about it?_

“It’s my favorite. The whole pitch feels renewed, like anything is possible. That’s what you smell like right now.”

Nando looks down, a blush creeping over his features, but he’s smiling a little and he smells pleased. Sergio lifts his hand towards Nando’s face, careful to telegraph his movements in case Nando wants to pull away. Nando inhales sharply when Sergio’s fingertips touch his cheek, but he allows the touch.

“When all this is done, Fernando...I promise I’ll do what I can to make sure you have whatever version of normal you want.”

Without breaking eye contact Nando takes Sergio’s hand away from his face and lowers it to his mouth, kissing his fingertips one by one. His scent changes into something clean and loamy, like fertile garden soil, and Sergio has to bite his lip to keep from chasing it.

_Oh._

“What?”

 _You’re attracted to me,_ says Nando as casually as if he’s discussing the weather. _Our scents are compatible._

Sergio blanches, but he doesn’t deny it.

_That means you’ll be there when I go into heat._

“If...if you want me to be.”

Nando releases Sergio’s hand and scoots closer, resting their foreheads together. _Of course I do._

“Nando…”

 _I want this. They don’t get to take this part of who I am, not anymore. I know it’s coming soon, and I want my Alpha with me. I want you,_ he says, and Sergio...Sergio has nothing to say to that.

He tucks Nando under his chin and holds him. That, at least, he can do.

*

The next day, everything goes to hell.

*

Sergio hates England. The cold and the damp permeate everything, even his mood. They’re in LIverpool where Stevie and Xabi call home, but they could be on Mars for all Sergio cares. Even the city itself seems depressed, nothing like the colors of home.

The only good things are Iker and Nando, sleeping peacefully in the seat next to him as Stevie drives them to his home. Nando’s been getting more rest ever since he started sharing Sergio’s bed, fewer nightmares, less insomnia. He still clings tight to Sergio every night, though, which is...well, it’s kind of nice, actually, and Sergio sees no reason why that won’t continue here.

In England. Where he and Iker…

Fuck.

That they’re there to do...whatever Iker and Nando are going to do to Xabi Alonso makes it that much worse. Claimed or not, what kind of Alpha lets his Omegas just walk into danger like that?

A shitty one, that’s who. As if he didn’t know that already.

_No._

Sergio startles. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” says Stevie from the driver’s seat. “Just checking in with Klopp, that’s all.”

 _You heard me._ A trickle of amusement, then Ricky’s sunny laughter. _Easy, Sergio, it’s just me._

 _I don’t know you,_ he grouses, but it’s fond. He likes Ricky, he always has.

_You’re not a shitty Alpha. Don’t ever think that._

Sergio looks over at Nando’s sleeping face, then up to the front seat where Iker’s reading. _They deserve better,_ he says softly, and Ricky hums.

_They chose you. If you trust nothing else, trust that. I’ll see you soon._

*

Both Iker and Nando change as soon as they get to Stevie’s house while Sergio goes to unpack and try to find a comfortable place to sleep tonight.

He comes to check on the Omegas before they go to do...whatever it is they’re going to do. All traces of ease are gone from their bearings, replaced by the haunted look from the night Sergio pulled them free. They’re tense, hands clasped as they stare off into the same direction, listening to something only they can hear. Sergio’s hesitant to interrupt, but…

“Fernando.”

He makes a face at his full name. _Hmm?_

“Just. Be careful, yeah?”

Nando steps closer, then kisses him so gently it nearly breaks Sergio in two. _I will._

Sergio hugs him once, then Iker, before stepping back. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Stevie, bouncing on the balls of his feet and about to panic from sheer anxious anticipation.

“Go ahead. I’ll be here when you guys are done.”

 _Come back to me,_ he thinks as they turn to walk away, and hopes that they hear.

*

The only thing worse than England is waiting around in England. Not only that, waiting with Cris, Stevie, and David, who Sergio has no choice but to trust. He’s not so petty as to jeopardize whatever Iker has, with him, but that’s not going to stop him from taking Beckham aside before all this is over. It’s not like he can actually scare such a heavily-modified man who heals like something out of Stan Lee’s wet dreams, but...shut up, it’s the thought that counts.

Sergio gets the appeal of cleaning guns to pass the time. There’s a certain calm to be found in that routine, a personalized self-soother disguised as productivity. He’s about a third of the way through his own weapon when David’s head jerks up, nostrils flaring. He’s off and running when the scents hit Sergio half a second later, then he’s running, too. He barely notices the commotion or trying to hold David back for a second, all that matters is that unmistakable scent.

Grass. Fields. Nando. _His_ Nando.

The scent and the sight of Nando in heat nearly makes Sergio drop to his knees right there. His teeth ache and he’s starving, suddenly, desperate to sate himself again and again, but he has to do it right. He’s terrified of breaking this extraordinary freckled boy and the tenuous threads weaving between them. Nando flings himself forward to close the last gap between them, hands going right under Sergio’s clothes, but Sergio pushes him back.

“Nando...you gotta say yes, okay?”

 _You promised!_ Nando hunches over, shivering. _You promised, Sese._

“I know! I know! I will, I want to, I just...just tell me it’s okay, Nando, please? Tell me yes and I’ll take care of you.”

With a groan, Nando stands upright, teeth bared, eyes bright. _YES!_

He throws himself into Sergio’s arms. Nando’s burning hot under Sergio’s touch, pulling at his clothes to get to bare skin.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Sergio tries to soothe, but Nando’s claws shred his shirt to ribbons before Stevie’s managed to shove them into one of the spare bedrooms. From there it’s a blur of sensation; his legs hitting a mattress, Nando’s hands on him, the words in his head getting louder and louder when he reaches between Nando’s legs and meets slick heat. Voice or not, the breathy choked sound Nando makes as Sergio pushes into him is the best thing he’s ever heard.

He’s falling, Sergio knows he’s falling, but maybe this time someone will be there to catch him.

*

He wakes up parched, hazy, and more than a little unsure how to proceed. Things are weird now, right? Shit, the morning after a heat is always weird, but usually there’s a little more conversation before everything kicks off and some mutual understanding of what it means.

_Morning._

Sergio huffs out a soft laugh and opens his eyes to find Nando lying next to him. They’ve done this countless times over the past month, but he’s never woken up to _this_ Nando before, with soft eyes and pink cheeks and just a hint of fresh milk in his scent. The claiming bite on his neck is shiny with new healing. He’s beautiful.

He tries to find his voice, and eventually settles on, “Hey. Uh, how’re you?”

 _Better than I’ve been in a long time, actually._ Nando brushes Sergio’s hair back from his forehead. _You?_

“Hungry. Like I could sleep for a year, still...and hungry.”

Nando laughs in that soft way of his. _Go back to sleep, if you want. I’ll wake you up when there’s food._

Sergio wants to protest that no, he’s perfectly capable of getting up and making them both some breakfast, but his eyes are already sliding closed.

 _Rest,_ says a gentle voice in his head, so he does.

*

The final fight, when it comes, is less of a grand finale and more of a scatterbrained clusterfuck. It goes down like a movie script: the good guys win, the bad guys get their due, Sergio gets shot, and now he gets to convalesce happily ever after.

Or something.

Sergio’s long past the point of convincing himself it’ll be that easy, but at the very least he and Nando can go back to Spain now, back _home,_ and build a life for themselves. First things first, though, a proper courtship, the fact that they’re already mated be damned.

He touches Nando’s hand, making him pause in securing his bandages. “Will you come to a football match with me? I can get tickets at the Bernabéu-”

_Oh god, you’re a Madridista, aren’t you?_

The resigned tone in Nando’s voice makes Sergio look up at him. “Of course! I mean, yes? Why? Is that a problem?”

 _Atleti, Atleti, Atlético de Madrid,_ Nando sings in his head. He turns a blinding smile on Sergio, the happiest he’s looked since they got to England. _Yes, I’ll go to a match with you, but you have to go with me, too._

Sergio nods his agreement. Setting foot in Rojiblanco territory is a small price to pay for making Nando smile like that. “We’ll alternate derbies, how’s that?”

_Sounds good._

“Yeah?” He pats Nando’s hip and lets him get back to work. “Yeah, I think it does.”


End file.
